[OPEN] Catch-all Cyclonus Post!

[tsunclonus]

Who: Cyclonus and ANYBODY
Where: Places!
When: Any time after he arrives
What: Cyclonus doing what Cyclonus do
Warnings: Sad robots, LOUD SINGING


A -
Cyclonus watches solemnly as the terminal in the forum plays through it's clip show once again. It's not the history of his Cybertron, but it might as well be. The rise of something beautiful and great and it's slow death in the face of millions of years of war. He had missed the death of his own Cybertron, lost in the Dead Universe, but here was the death of another laid bare to him in a series of scattered images.

Though perhaps not quite dead. Injured, torn, desecrated, but still alive and reaching out. Longing for what it once was. Or perhaps he's just projecting his own longing for his lost shining Cybertron.

Optics darkening, he places a hand on the terminal, as though he can offer it comfort or at least understanding. Then he does what he always does when his longing for his old home grows too much: he sings.

Loudly, fervently, he sings, the Primal Vernacular harsh and gutteral in his Tetrahexian accent. He sings odes to the glory of Cybertron, to its great cities, to Primus and the Guiding Hand. He sings ballads of his people and their deeds before they set about ruining the planet that birthed them.

He sings with all the emotion of one who has known loss; of his home, his friends, everything he held dear. He sings with the pain of one who has known the ache of a wasting death, the sting of betrayal, the guilt of being made to hurt that which you loved most.

It has been a while since he's sung without an audience, having grown used to Tailgate's presence during such moments, his wide, bright optics fixed admiringly on him, sometimes his lighter voice joining Cyclonus's darker in song. Cyclonus feels his absence keenly in this moment, and that too finds its way into his voice.

He will sing until static begins to creep into his voice, and then he will leave. But he'll be back to sing again the next day.


B - Cyclonus takes to the air every day following his arrival. The first time he sought to explore further, sweeping over the surface of this familiar-yet-unfamiliar Cybertron. He hadn't made it far, struck by an irresistible urge to return to the city.
Perhaps it was a malevolent force, trapping them here. But Cyclonus couldn't shake feeling that this Cybertron was simply keeping all of its guests close.

Still, every day he sweeps the skies, testing the limits of how far he can bear to go and keeping an eye out for anything interesting... And a certain someone.


C - Whatever!
OOC: Cyclonus is totally getting all up over the city, so feel free to throw scenarios at me or ask me for a starter or just generally bump into him somewhere!

Comments

A.

[ancillary]

"What the hell was that?"

Miranda came marching into the forum like storm with a loaded semi-automatic in hand down at her side. Expecting anything from the already high tensions getting the better of the other inhabitants breaking out into a fight to whatever else would send giant robots into screeching ballistics.

Instead she finds Cyclonus, alone and his voice petering off with a strangle warble as if-

"Was that singing?"

This planet was awful.

a

[chickscream]

He's not singing without an audience this time, either.

Slipstream wasn't here for the beginning of it, but it catches in her audio sensors as she wanders the city, and she approaches quietly, head cocked to let it fill her processor. It's... strange, and alien to her-- she's never heard the like, and has no memory of Starscream ever hearing it, either. Certainly no such music ever played on human radio or television while she hid in Detroit.

It tugs on her, or perhaps the terminal does-- she can't separate the feelings, but she's drawn in anyways, crunching to the ground a little ways away and seating herself on the ground, close enough to listen and to be seen in the peripheral, but not so close as to intrude.

A

[loyaltyandhonor]

Dreadwing had made a habit out of occasionally checking the various terminals around the city on the off chance they held more information than they had previous shown. With the arrival of the various creatures on the surface, he had a feeling there would be more activity on the monitors than there had been. Flying toward the central forum, he heard the singing before he came overhead, spotting the figure at the console.

He landed on the outer edge, content to watch and listen. While it was not a language he was familiar with, it was still captivating to listen to. With the war there were so few opportunities for such an indulgence in culture, but he had always had an appreciation for such things. The melancholy tone and emotion of the song had him reflecting on the recent loss of his twin, a wound which had hardly healed even before discovering of Starscream's plot to resurrect Skyquake.

He remained motionless as Cyclonus continued, but as the singing ended he finally moved, striding across the courtyard toward him.
"That was quite the performance," he called out, a genuine compliment.